


Whispers

by KoolJack1



Series: Hannibal Kink Meme Prompt Fills [8]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Child Murder, Disability, Flashbacks, Forced Cannibalism, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Anguish, Serial Killer, Trauma, Vomiting, child molestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:38:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoolJack1/pseuds/KoolJack1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written For The Prompt:</p><p>The FBI thought they had problems with the Ripper, but unfortunately for Will, Jack, and the team, there's a new guy in town. There is also the problem that the newbie is even worse than the Ripper and Hobbs. He's going for small children. He also really enjoys taping his murders.</p><p>Will is having so much trouble connecting to their newest monster that Jack calls in Hannibal to help his teacup. The psychiatrist/serial killer is apathetic if not a bit disgusted by the deaths and is willing to assist.</p><p>At least until he sees that the new victim looks just like a familiar little sister. With that image, every nightmare of Hannibal's past comes back to life.</p><p>Please, dear writers, give me emotionally breaking Hannibal.</p><p>Bonus:<br/>+Hannibal having nightmares of his little sister crawling out of his stomach.<br/>++Lecter can't eat without being physically ill.<br/>+++Will realizes somethings wrong when he feels something off from Hannibal.<br/>++++Someone has investigated Hannibal's past and delicately brings up his sister's death to Will.</p><p>http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/2676.html?thread=4867444</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fiction includes descriptions of the death of children, and includes flashbacks of childhood trauma (none descriptive molestation).

Jack showing up at his door while he's seeing patients is something Hannibal finds terribly rude- especially considering he doesn't work for him, he works for Will. If it were anyone else Jack had asked him to help, he would have declined. He keeps his annoyance off his face for every visit, merely because he's doing it for Will.

So when he opens his door to see his patient out after their hour and sees Jack sitting just in the waiting room, his face scrunches in annoyance for just a moment before he gathers himself and Jack stands to shake his hand.

"Hello, Doctor."

Hannibal smiles a tight lipped smile, "I'll see you next week, Lana," his patient smiles timidly at him and exits, "Hello, Agent Crawford; what brings you here today?"

Jack removes his hat and followed Hannibal back into the office. "Has Will mentioned anything to you about our most recent case?"

Lecter motions for Jack to sit, "In fact he hasn't, why do you ask?"

"It seems like another one is getting to him, only differently this time. It's getting to all of us and I want you to be with him and help him get a new prospective."

Hannibal sits behind his desk and inclines his head, "What about this particular killer has your department more disturbed than usual?"

Jack sighs, and for the first time ever; Hannibal notices a glint of sadness in his eyes, "Children. This bastard has only killed children younger than seven. Boys and girls. We discovered a mass grave in the woods by a jogging path. Six different missing kids from all the surrounding states were buried there. They've gone missing over the past three years. Then we found another body by a baseball field a day later."

Hannibal closes his eyes momentarily, he's done a lot of unspeakable things; but children... Little children. Never children.

"I can understand how this has disturbed you greatly. It sickens me as well. Please, just let me know how I can help."

Jack stands, "Come with me back to Quantico and look over the case files."

Hannibal nods, "Let me just clear my appointments."

-

Hannibal can feel the vibe in the office is different. Alana and Will are sitting silently in Jack's office with closed plain manila folders scattered on the desk before them. A board has pictures of their victims pinned up, all eyes avoid it.

Aside from Hannibal's.

He studies each picture closely, and he can feel three sets of eyes on him as he does it; yet he can't look away.

Each picture is labeled, and he reads the names and ages, a strange empty feeling settling in his chest.

The youngest is three and the oldest is seven. He reads the names and his eyes drift to the small mutilated bodies in the pictures. An angry, vile man. Someone who hates these children, someone who considers them useless.

That's one thing he doesn't understand. Children turn into what people like their killer are. It's the one universally accepted fact; everyone you see was once a child.

To kill a child...

His chest tightens in a way he hasn't felt since he was very young, and the feeling scares him and he takes a step back away from the board.

"Are you okay?"

He spins around and realized he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. Alana and Jack are gone, and Will is standing with his hands in his pockets, his head bowed but his eyes looking up at him from behind his curls.

He glances back at the board, "I just have difficulty understanding how one could experience such hate and rage on such young children."

Will swallows and shuffles his feet, and Hannibal can see he's struggling not to look at the board himself.

"I didn't know you liked children." Hannibal is sure Will doesn't mean it to be offending.

"I wouldn't go as far to say I enjoy their company, but I do enjoy seeing the potential of what they could be. Clean slates. Each of them can one day become someone like you or I, perhaps a lawyer."

Will clears his throat, "And they also can become someone we look to catch."

Before he can come up with an answer Jack has returned, and his face is grave, "Someone called in, they found a body drifted up on shore of a lake."

-

They ride all together in silence to the scene where local police have already arrived. Everyone is silent when they get out of the car, including the first responders. The four of them approach the shore, and the body is small. Another child.

"Clear the scene," Jack barks impatiently and Will looks alarmed.

"Jack, we already tried this, I can't connect to him."

Jack glares at him, "I have dead kids popping up everywhere Will, you're going to have to try harder."

Will looks at the small mutilated body and back at Jack, "She's hardly affected by the water, she couldn't have been in here that long."

Alana is stiff next to Hannibal before she turns and walks off to get the full crime scene report. "Do your thing, Will."

Will's eyes close, sweat appears on his face and he tries to breathe deeply and easily. His face creases in discomfort and his eyes open suddenly and he looks terrified, "I can't see anything Jack, just a dead child."

Jack stalks off, and leaves them standing there in a daze. Hannibal takes in the small body. Her throat had been cut, her little fingers clenched into a fist. Bruises are dark on her pale skin. She has beautiful blonde hair that has been matted by weeds and water; Hannibal can imagine them being soft curls after a bath.

"They said she couldn't be more than three, and there are signs of sexual assault," Alana says quietly before she backs away again.

Her lips are stained blue, and images of them being pink and plump with laughter dance in Hannibal's mind and he takes a step back from the body.

_M for Mischa._

He steps back again, looking up at Will who's staring blankly into space.

"I'm going to ask an officer to drive me back to Jack's office." He hears himself say and he stumbles back and nearly trips over nothing.

-

He manages to ask the officer to drive him home instead, he doesn't want to be surrounded by people and crime scene photos of dead children right now.

He can't help Will like this, he's no use to any of them like this.

He tries to heat up something to eat, too drained to make himself anything.

He sits to eat, chewing slowly and deliberately. He tries to just focus on the taste and keep his mind blank.

_Annabl'!!_

He hadn't realized he shut his eyes and they fly open and his stomach turns violently and he hardly makes it to the garbage before he vomits. Breathing heavily, he shakes his head. He is no sheep, he's seen worse things done. He himself has done worse things. He doesn't vomit up good food that he worked hard to get and prepare.

He doesn't hear his long dead sister's voice in his head when he shuts his eyes.

He doesn't have a childhood, he was the one person in the world who was never a child. He'd had those memories robbed from him, not acknowledging his past had made it float away in his mind.

Except it really hadn't. His entire life was governed by what had happened to him as a child, even if he would never admit it.

He couldn't say for sure if he'd be who he was today if it wasn't for those long repressed memories of a little Hannibal Lecter and an even littler Mischa Lecter, orphaned and beaten. Mischa...cold, dead, and...eaten.

Little Hannibal growing up, silent and traumatized. Beaten in the orphanage that was once his dead parents home. The head of the orphanage saying he was a special boy who needed extra help. Silence while the man's fingers roam his prepubescent body; a little Hannibal Lecter obeying obediently when the hands hold him still, silent tears dripping down his flushed cheeks.

He's sitting on his kitchen floor near the garbage he'd emptied his stomach into. He looks down at his suit, and then his hands; much larger than he remembered. He stands shakily and heads for the bathroom. He peals the clothing from his body, his fingers travel across his muscular chest and arms.

_'You're a special boy'_

_Labored breaths in his ear, pain shoots up his spine and he chokes on noises._

_Fingers in his hair, lips against his neck._

_Hot tears that threaten to burn his skin right off his bones._

Hannibal Lecter died in that orphanage, his little damaged soul had gone their in need of repair, and instead he'd been forced further into the darkness and left there alone.

The little boy died to save himself.

And here that little boy was.

A few dead children and he was reduced to a sheep.

He pays no mind to his discarded clothing on the floor and walks on autopilot to his room, slipping on silk pajama pants. He wants a glass of wine, to sooth his newly discovered emotions.

He pours himself a more full glass than usual and goes to to the couch. He doesn't lay on his couch, he doesn't walk around shirtless. He doesn't put glasses on his table without a coaster, doesn't leave clothing on the floor of his bathroom. He doesn't leave garbage pails with vomit in them in the house.

And he does all of those things and shuts his eyes.

-

_He knows._

_He knows what's in the murky water that's meant to pass as broth._

_He knows what the chunks are._

_He's so cold, he's shaking so bad he can't put the spoon to his lips. His arm hurts, his head hurts, his heart hurts._

_His mind is numb, he can't make himself think or feel; it's peacefully blank._

_A man, one of the monsters, come to him. He stares up at him when he tucks the blanket around him more and presses the spoon to his lips._

_'You must eat too.'_

_He opens mechanically and swallows without chewing._

_It tastes like chicken._

_It smells like Mischa._

_He throws up._

_But there's nothing to throw up and bile dibbles down his chin._

_The man above him almost looks sad._

"Hannibal."

His body lurches and his hand strikes out, connecting with someone's face. He sits up quickly, ready for a fight. Instead he sees Will scrambling after his glasses on the floor.

"Will," his voice is hoarse, he wonders why, "I'm terribly sorry, you startled me."

Will locates his glasses and slips them back on his face and stands a few feet away.

"I..understand, it's alright." Will's blue eyes take him in uncertainly, "I, uh, Jack called you a few times and couldn't reach you. I was worried so I came to see you."

Will sits on the other armchair, his eyes on the empty wine glass on the table. When had he drank it? He thinks he smells the vomit in the other room, and he wonders if Will can too.

"I must have fallen asleep." He's confused as well. He looks down and remembers he's shirtless, and he knows how he must look to Will right now.

He must look more normal than usual, and that, for him, is abnormal.

"I didn't want to say it before at the...crime scene," Will takes a deep breath, "but, I...your emotions were really making me sick when you were there."

Hannibal sits as still as possible, his eyes scanning Will's face though the other man doesn't look up. He searches for an explanation, but Will speaks again instead.

"I didn't want Jack to...you know. Be insensitive, so I didn't say anything. But they were very strong."

For the first time in his life, Hannibal feels small and...he just feels.

"It's okay though, it's a painful case. Your emotions and mine together, well...it was too much," he chuckles humorlessly and rubs his eyes under his glasses. Hannibal still stays silent. "You were...dreaming when I got here. I'm sorry I let myself in, but you weren't answering and I was worried."

He's rambling, but Hannibal rather that then have to explain himself. He can't explain his feelings, he doesn't understand them himself.

"You...said a name. Mischa."

The room is suddenly hotter and Hannibal's eyes move to the empty glass now too.

Will waits for him to say something, and as rude as it is; he can't find any.

"Before I came here...I looked back at your records. You told me your parents died when you were younger but you never mentioned a sister. That name came up in your records..."

"Were there specifics?" He wants to tell Will it's rude to snoop and it's none of his business, but...he can't. He doesn't know how to tell Will to butt out.

He'd carried the burden of his family with him his whole life, lived in their name.

He would be the last Lecter, and after his life ended; his family name would rest in peace. The legacy he'd leave behind would be all that was left.

"No, I didn't look further than that."

Relieved, he inhales shakily, "She was murdered too, when my parents were."

Will nods, "It's okay to feel things, and to remember. I understand what that's like. Don't be..ashamed."

More silence.

"I'm really bad at this, I just wanted you to know I- that I care. You said you have your own unconventional psychiatrist, maybe you should tell her. I have one of those too, and he's really helpful."

Hannibal's lips twitch despite himself, "Perhaps I will." His psychiatrist had tried to breach the subject before, and he'd have none of that then.

Maybe it was time now.


	2. Chapter 2

The investigation took three more weeks to finally conclude.

It took eleven more dead children to find their monster.

Hannibal took his unconventional psychiatrist's advice and stayed away, despite Jack's constant efforts to drag him back to help Will.

He did help Will, the man would burst into his office and even his home at all hours of the day and night; sweating and disoriented from dreams and thoughts about small dead children.

It became clear that the killer's methods weren't set in stone. Some of the bodies had evidence of starvation, while others showed signs of sexual assault.

The only thing that was for certain was that this man hated children.

And that the killer was in fact, a man. Women...well, a pure psychopath being a woman was rare, one being a serial killer was even more of stretch.

A woman being a sadistic serial killer who only targeting very young children- unheard of.

Sometime in the second week, Will sitting at the edge of his seat in Hannibal's office, and he revealed that earlier that day; he'd come to the realization that this killer had a child of his own.

"What lead you to that conclusion?"

Will smirked darkly, "We've seen it before, a parent killing to avoid killing their own child."

Abigail. Hannibal had avoided her since this investigation had started. Her youth was pulling at him in too many ways, and with the dead children popping up everywhere...he just didn't want to see her.

But he did want to see her, and it had become apparent by the endless phone calls that she too wanted to see him. He was hurting her feelings that he had been ignoring her, he could tell.

If he knew how to return that sadness from their distance, he would.

When Will had left that night, the information about their killer had left him further unsettled, which lead him right to the door of his psychiatrist.

He felt very much like Will, standing outside her home. The difference was he didn't fidget or twitch, his breathing didn't change, and he smiled kindly at her when she opened the door.

"Hannibal, please come in." It was like she'd been expecting him, only he hadn't warned her he was coming. "I was just about to pour myself some wine, would you care for a glass?"

"Yes, please. Thank you. I apologize for the disturbing you unannounced, I just..."

She turned to face him then, extending a glass to him. "What is it you always say? Office hours are for patients, your home is always opened to friends."

He smiled at her, "Kitchen."

"If I could cook, I'd say the same saying applies here. My wine rack is always open to friends who need a glass and a friend."

He inclined his head in gratitude and scented the wine before letting the smallest amount pass his lips. "What is it that's bothering you?"

His eyes drifted to hers and then away and out the window, "Will believes that the killer targeting children has a child of his own."

"This troubles you further because of Abigail."

She leads him to a seat and takes one for herself, "Indeed. She continues to call me regularly, she wants to see me."

"Hannibal, she loves you. Ignoring her is hurting her."

He winces slightly at the use of the word love and sips his wine again, "I am aware she loves me."

She looks at him thoughtfully, "You've told me yourself you enjoy her company, perhaps in some way you love her too."

He looks at her then, his expression blank, "In a certain sense, I suppose I do."

"Has Will been spending time with her?"

She flips her beautiful hair over her shoulder, completely at ease, "He told me he took her fishing. I believe he's been seeing her now more than ever."

"And why do you think that is?" He knows where she's going with this.

"He has no children of his own, and investigating the murders of so many...I believe it's bringing out the paternal nature he hasn't had the chance to express."

"Is that why you're avoiding her? You feel that pull as well, and it unnerves you so you avoid her to avoid having to confront those feelings."

He sips his wine and remains silent, so she continues, "Young people have that effect on adults, especially adults without children Hannibal. You enjoyed her company because she let you teach her things and relied on you. Now this most recent case has brought around old memories of the trauma of losing your family, and perhaps the pain would be worse around Abigail."

He stares at her silently, "Pain is alright, that's what makes us human."

True, except he hadn't been human until just very recently.

And mental pain wasn't something he'd established a tolerance for, instead he'd repressed it.

Pain, remorse, guilt; he'd repressed them so deeply he didn't remember what they felt like.

"Hannibal, you must find a way to let Mischa go and stop blaming yourself. You were just as much a baby as she was, no one holds you responsible for that except yourself."

"I don't hold myself responsible for her death." Ever since he'd decided to share the burden of his memories with her, the topic of his families death had come up nearly in every conversation and session they had. It was as if the memories and trauma were some key to his psyche.

He wasn't sure if it was.

"Children require a stable and supportive environment. You were old enough to remember your family, and old enough to feel the pain of losing them. Yet you weren't old enough to have the developed coping mechanisms to handle the loss. And you didn't receive the support later in life, until you were much older. Damage is done, Hannibal. You've overcome and grown, but you must remember under the person suit is a person."

"I think I will return Abigail's call tomorrow."

"I think that would be wise. Maybe you could visit her with Will, I also believe Will is as good for you as you are for him."

He did call her the next day, she was more enthusiastic than he'd ever heard from her before. He apologized for taking so long, and she said it was alright as long as he called again.

He promised to cook for her soon, and she requested breakfast for dinner again. He promised to come through.

"Will told me a serial killer is killing kids, is that why you sound so distant?"

Direct and intuitive one she is.

"Yes."

"I'm far from being seven. I'm nearly nineteen."

"That is true."

"When they find him, will you come?"

"Of course."

"Okay, then I forgive you."

-

A week later, Alana has invited him over for drinks and dinner; she's cooking. He agrees despite not being hungry. Food makes him feel ill, he'd avoided hunting for that reason. The smell of food turned his stomach.

That reason, and he didn't want to split the attention of the authorities between this child killer and the Ripper.

Fortunately for him they never make it as far as dinner before Alana's phone rings.

She hardly talks for thirty seconds before her eyes go wide and she grabs her keys and hangs up.

"That was Jack, they have the killer's house surrounded. A neighbor heard screams," she's rushing for the door and he stays close behind her, not caring about the details. For the first time in so many years, he can feel his heart beating and he remembers he's alive.

-

They arrive just in time to watch Jack shove the man in the back of the car. They'd missed the show down, or whatever happened. He finds he is hardly interested, he looks at the man himself.

Skinny and tall, long dark hair, crazed look in his eye. He wishes he had found him first.

He sees Will cross the lawn and go inside, and despite catching the man; everyone's faces looks the same as they looked down by the lake shore with the dead little girl.

Inside, they discovered a body of another young boy, and Hannibal's insides twist. The son, they believe. He hears the words 'murder suicide' and concludes that the killer only got done with one part of his plan before he was taken down.

They should have let him finish.

Will is standing in the doorway where the last child's body is laying, Will stares at it unblinking.

Even though it's over, no one feels like they've won. Hannibal touches Will's arm and they look at each other blankly before turning to walk down the hallway.

Alana wasn't behind him, she must have went to find Jack instead of confronting the mess inside.

He walks back down the dimly lit hallway, and that's when he hears it.

An open door, and something shuffles inside. Hannibal hesitates, looking back at the gathering of people a few rooms away before pushing the light wooden door opened further to peer inside.

He doesn't even get it all the way opened before something jumps at him and he stumbles back a step.

A child, a young boy, latches onto his neck with such force he nearly chokes. He inhales the child's scent and senses his chemistry is different. He stands completely still while the boy holds his neck tightly and his legs clench on his hip; his body shakes so hard he's nearly vibrating.

All eyes have turned to look at him from down the hall, and he remembers he has to look...something, so he lifts his arm to brace the boy's back and blinks uncertainly at Will.

The child leans back and brings his face too close to Hannibal's and he sees. Large, unfocused eyes and facial features that don't match the face of a typically developed child.

Down Syndrome he realizes, and he musters a small smile for the boy.

-

Hannibal is completely silent like his new young companion when he rides with him to the hospital.

Will, Alana, and Jack are too shocked to disturb him, he nearly feels self conscious by the looks everyone is giving him as the boy grips him with small hands.

The silence carries on until the boy is settled in the pediatric wing of the hospital, sedated since he began to fight when Hannibal was asked to leave the room.

When the boy is asleep, he steps out into the hallway, walking right into the three of them. Alana offers him a cup of coffee and he's pleased to see it's from an actual coffee shop and not the hospital cafeteria.

"We got the bastard talking," Jack finally speaks up, sipping his coffee, "He told us his son was born with Down Syndrome, and his wife committed suicide after suffering from Postpartum Depression. Last year he lost his job and his health insurance."

Will holds his silence and Alana sighs, "He snapped."

"The child, what is his name?" Hannibal hears himself ask.

"Timothy." Will supplies.

"We're contacting relatives to take him in."

Hannibal swallowed the strange lump that had formed in his throat, "If the family needs, I'd liked to offer some financial support if they take him in and see he receives the treatment he needs."

Alana looks at him adoringly, Jack isn't looking at him at all, and Will...looks like he expected that.

"When you manage to contact relatives, or whomever he goes to live with; please give them a way to contact me and I can advise them and assist."

Jack doesn't say a word before he turns and walks down the long stretch of white hallway, hands in his pockets.

Hannibal turns in the opposite direction, Will and Alana on either side. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?" Alana asks quietly.

"He's asleep."

"Now that they're done treating him, they lessened the dosage. He should be waking up soon."

"I believe it's best that I do not," no one says anything more about it.


End file.
